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^^ NEW YORK 

Anson D. F. Randolph & Company 

38 West Twenty-third Street 



COPYRIGHT, 1886, BY ANSON 0. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY 

{ OCT 20 !>**•■ U ' 



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pffCROSS the discord of our lives comes lowly, 
^ One harmony, our hearts too seldom heed ; 
The comfort given us by the Teacher holy : 
*' He knoweth ye have need." 

There is no grievous chastening but combineth 

Some brightness with the gloom ; 
*Round every thorn in the flesh there twineth 

Some wreath of softening bloom. 



'^fYlE have no strength to walk, unless Thou leadest ; 
Sin hides each side the straight and narrow way 
Our hungry souls must faint, except Thou feedest ; 
Help us, we plead, to live aright to-day. 

Sad, aching eyes, that through the mist of sorrow, 
See all things by your blindness rendered dim ; 

Grief, alas, to-day, but joy shall come to-morrow ; 
Look up ! and trust in Him. 

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OYlE cannot measure joys but by their loss, 

When blessings fade away we see them then ; 
Our richest clusters grow around the cross, 
And in the night-time angels sing to men. 

The seed must first lie buried deep in earth, 

Before the lily opens to the sky ; 
So " light is sown," and gladness has its birth 

In the dark deeps where we can only cry. 

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T^HE sorrows that to us seem so perplexing, 

Are mercies kindly sent 
To guard our wayward souls from sadder vexing, 
And greater ills prevent. 

God's good gifts from His ever open hand 
On everything around are freely thrown ; 

And thinkest thou, O heart, He will withstand 
Thy prayer alone ? 

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7^0 wait with calmness for the Hght to break 

O'er yonder hills, 
When night is long, and our sore hearts awake 

To human ills, 

Needs patience. Master, such as Thou hast shown 

Us o'er and o'er : 
Grant us, we pray Thee, patience like Thine own, 

Still more and more. 
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^TTE leads us on. Through all the unquiet years; 
'^ Past all our dream-land hopes and doubts and fears 
He guides our steps. Through all the tangled maze 
Of sin and sorrow, and o'erclouded days, 
We know His will is done. And still He leads us on. 
And He, at last. After the weary strife, 
After the restless fever we call life, 
After the dreariness, the aching pain, 
The many struggles which have proved in vain, — 
After our toils are past, — Will give us rest at last. 

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I TRRftRY OF CONGRESS 

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